


Not crazy, just a little under the weather

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, Depression, M/M, Mental Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Sadstuck, Self-Harm, post-schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert's crazy, or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time using this site, and i suspect i will receive crude critism and nice critism. So fire away.

What is your name?

You hardly even remember your own name. But they call you John, John Egbert when they visit you.

For almost three years now, you've been sitting on a white bed in a white room in white clothing. You can't remember how or when you got there, but this is all you've been able to seen for the past three years.

Yes.

You counted.

You hardly sleep, but when you do it's always filled with a vision of red and screams. Normally, they'd wake you up and they'd tell you "It's okay, John. Shhh, they're only nightmares." And yank your arm from under your chest and jam a needle into your wrist.

You can't remember who your mother or your father were. You barely even remember what you look like. When they brought in a mirror, you looked at your own reflection. He stared back at you, purple, almost black bruises formed under your eyes that still maintained such a crystalline colour.

Your hair was a mop of messy black hair and your skin was ghostly pale.

For a while, you thought no one but you and those that took care of you existed.

That was what you thought was the world until one day, they woke you up from another nightmare, but they didn't jam a needle into you. In fact, it wasn't even them. It was someone in a red shirt and black pants. His blond hair ruined the world of white, and you began kicking at him.

Who was this man? Who WAS he?

He lets go of you and you scramble back against the wall, shivering. You lick your lips and try to speak, although you haven't spoken in years. It all just comes out as a dry squeak.

The blond stranger pulls off his sunglasses, revealing red eyes. He holds out his hand, smiling softly.

"John.. it's me, Dave."

Dave? You don't know a Dave! You don't know anyone! You swallow harshly, the saliva in your mouth turning to ice in your throat as tears begin to spill from your eyes. You shake your head violently, and he frowns.

"Don't you remember me?" he asks, his voice somber.

You grip your bed sheets tightly, hoping this nightmare would end. This.. Dave, sighs and stands up. "I'm here to take you home, John. They're releasing you, bro." You blink at him as he walks over to your spot by your pillow and you huddle closer to the wall.

"Don't be afraid John. I'm not your enemy." He says, his voice slightly harsh.

As he tries to reach out towards you again, you scream and he backs away. You continue screaming until a nurse, with pretty white hair comes in with a needle full of clear liquid. She grabs your wrist, her soft skin feeling like velvet against yours.

She sticks the needle into your wrist and when she's all done she wipes your arm clean. You start to feel extremely drowsy, only Dave doesn't move. The nurse stands back and begins talking to the blond.

Your afraid, you don't want to leave.

Nothing goes through your brain anymore as you simply pass out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ugh i'm such a bad author sorry

Your name is Dave Strider. It has been for at least twenty-six years now. 

None of you ever intended on actually letting it go this far, not you, not Jade, not even Rose. 

You decide it’s time and bring out your phone. It’s almost hard, to dial a number you haven’t dialed in so long. 

When you bring the your phone up to your ear, after about five rings a feminine voice answers. “What is it Dave? Are you aware of what time it is in Europe?” 

Rose Lalonde, your genetic sister. Studying abroad in Europe, and even if she seems annoyed that you’d call her so late, she knows you’re going through some tough stuff right now.

“I picked him up..” You murmur, looking out your apartment window.

It’s raining. 

You know you now have Roses full attention, because you hear something clatter over on her side and you assume it’s a pen. “How is he?” She asks, her voice octaves higher and it sounds choked. 

Swallowing seemed to be the hardest task ever for you at that moment, but you do and you sigh. “He’s fine.. but, when I went to go pick him up, he didn’t.. he didn’t remember me, Rose.” Goddamnit. Only John was the only one to make you show true fear in your voice. 

Rose is silent for a majority of seconds before letting out a sigh. “They broke him, Rose.” You add. 

She is still silent, before letting out a breath of air. “Maybe you should sleep, Dave. Today must have been hard on you.” She says. 

Oh you want to sleep, but you and John used to share a bed before his initial hospitalization. So of course, you set him in your used to be shared bed and let him sleep there, still of course, heavily sedated. 

You want to sleep, but you can’t sleep knowing John is back but he’s not John anymore. 

“Dave please. Sleep for him at least.” You hear her say, before you yawn. 

Nodding to yourself, “Okay fine. I’ll go to sleep. But if Egbert wakes up screaming, I’m blaming it on you.” You threaten her, it’s an empty threat and she knows that. She laughs softly and whispers good night to you before you set your phone down and look over at the bedroom door.

Maybe you could go kiss him on the cheek, the forehead, the lips, while he’s asleep. It would put your mind at ease and you could at least sleep more comfortably on the couch. 

Spinning around in your computer chair, you turn your monitor off quickly and make your way to the door. When you walk in, you can see him perfectly.

Even in the dark, poorly lit room, you can still make out his bruised and scarred wrists. Make out how his black hair contrasted against his pale skin. You could almost weep at how peaceful he looks asleep, but you don’t want to wake him up. That’s the last thing you want to do.

So you just settle for carefully tiptoeing over to John and get on your knees next to him. His glasses are set on the bedside, next to your lamp. “John.. I will never let them take you away from us, from me, ever again. I promise..” you murmur, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

It’s a soft, subtle notion. But you can feel sparks on your lips from where they touched his skin. It almost hurts, but maybe it doesn’t hurt at the same time. 

When you pull back, you’re greeted with pale blue eyes that haunt your every waking moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry these chapters are all half-assed, over the weekend i'll work on a very big one. and it wont be in this type, it'll be third person. c:

Your back to being John. 

Screaming with a voice that you never had to use for the longest time hurts. It hurts so bad. 

That strange man.. Dave was back again and you were scared. 

“John will you shut up for a second?” You hear him yell, which makes you shut up and cower away from him, but he grabs onto your hands before you can move from him. He’s looking into, what you assume are your eyes. You can’t really see him well. 

It’s the first time you notice that you aren’t in a white room, but a light blue room with a few paintings nailed to the wall. And then you also notice that you’re also wearing a red shirt similar to his, and black boxers. 

What is this ludicrous? 

He’s looking at you with these eyes, like he’s hurt or something. 

“What did they do to you?” He speaks up, bringing a hand up to your cheek to brush a stray lock out of your face. You feel the need to flinch, but you don’t. Something inside tells you that you shouldn’t be afraid. 

You don’t move.

You hold onto your breath.

You don’t even make a sound.

Dave looks at you with these eyes, these sad eyes and you don’t know what to do so you just sit there and.. look at him. 

He’s blurry without your glasses on, but you can make out that dreadful colour of his iris and it makes you sick. You want to vomit, it’s a strange foreign feeling in your throat and you don’t know what to do.

So you just watch him as you’re pretty sure your face turns a different colour and in a hot, fast moment of heat, you empty your bowels. Not that you really had anything in your stomach, so you just vomit up water. 

Dave springs back in shock, water on his red shirt. You can see he regrets bouncing back from you just because you vomited. Because he leaves the room and you began to cough, your head leaning over the bed. 

The blond comes back with a clear bowl, and what you can see is a washcloth. The washcloth was common for you for the past few years, and he gently puts a hand on your cheek. 

“C’mon, John, you need to lay back on the bed.” He gently orders you, and you comply, having no energy to fight with him. Dave sets the bowl right beside you, firmly placing it so it doesn’t tip over. 

Then he sits beside you, and puts the wash cloth on your forehead. You feel dizzy.

Why was he giving you such nice treatment? 

No.

Maybe.

You don’t even want to think about it. He’s just another stranger. 

But surely his intentions are sweet? 

Hahaha, don’t flatter yourself! You’re nothing but a shell of who you formerly were, you can’t even remember your life before that white room! You’re worthless.

No. You aren’t worthless.  
Yes. Yes you are worthless. 

Stop it! You can’t talk to that guy right now, he’s not real! No matter how many times he tells you he’s real, he’s just someone in your own brain to make you seem like you’re worthless.

It’s apart of your messed up brain, they told you. 

The white nurses and doctors. 

They were perfect. 

No.

This life you are in right now is good, because now you’re breathing heavily and the stranger, no, Dave is rubbing your chest in small circles. He’s touching you like a docile doll, as if one touch could break you. 

It’s warm.

You feel warm.

Warmth..

So this was what it was like, huh? 

Wow. You like it. You like it a /lot/. 

You can’t help it, but you’re eyes are closing and you find yourself falling into the warmth that threatened to take you in by it’s arms and hug you close for the rest of eternity.

“John.. please come back.”


End file.
